


gotta make it political, baby

by sarcoline_sails



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 2020 US Presidential Election, Fluff, M/M, Presidential debate, also to project frustrations but not really, it’s mostly narry, i’m sorry i used the debate as an excuse to write narry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:09:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27167731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcoline_sails/pseuds/sarcoline_sails
Summary: Niall and Harry (try to) watch the 2nd Presidential Debate.
Relationships: Niall Horan/Harry Styles
Comments: 9
Kudos: 37





	gotta make it political, baby

**Author's Note:**

> firstly, i’m sorry that i’m not sorry. this is basically just narry with a teeny bit of presidential debate thrown in,,,  
> secondly, to my dear, of-age Americans, PLEASE VOTE NOV 3rd!! seriously, we need to get cheeto outta office ASAP.  
> finally, please enjoy my brain sap from last night ❤️

“Will he shut up?!”

Niall is barely holding back a scream of frustration. Deciding to keep track of this year's American Presidential Race is proving to be a lot harder than he originally thought—specifically, getting through a full 1.5 hours filled with Donald Trump’s cheese-grater voice.

“Why the fuck does he feel the need to interrupt every two goddamn seconds?!”

An arm slips around his waist and pulls him back against the couch, and despite his anger, he melts easily into the body next to him (not without a soft grumble).

“Babe, breathe,” comes a slow drawl in his ear. Niall listens, takes a deep breath and focuses on ringed fingers curling around his bicep. “Treat People With Kindness, darling.”

He can’t hold back his groan. “That piece of shit doesn’t deserve my kindness. Did you even hear what he said? Like, ten seconds ago?? ‘Excuse me, I have to respond to that’. Maybe she’d let you respond if you let her finish her fuckin’ question!”

“Well,” Harry sighs and reaches over to Niall’s mouth, gently pushing his lips back into his face from where they were pursed with his (spot-on) Trump impression. “You aren’t wrong… I can’t believe the audacity of that man.”

“Ugh, tell me about it.”

“Respect women moderators 2020.”

“Amen.”

  
-

“Why does Biden keep mentioning kitchen tables?”

“Reckon he’s trying to appeal to regular folk.”

“What about the people who don’t have kitchen tables?”

“Guess they’ll just have to vote for Tr—”

“Don’t even finish that thought, Styles.”

Harry laughs at Niall’s scandalized expression, dropping a kiss onto his eyebrow as an apology. A moment of silence lapses between them as they watch Welker attempt to ask her question to Biden and the chatterbox.

“Maybe he craves a domestic lifestyle.”

Niall looks thoughtful for a moment. “Huh. You think so?”

Harry nods distractedly, thinking about the way Niall fits so seamlessly into his life, how their belongings are all a beautiful jumble within his home and how perfect Niall looks wearing Harry’s old t-shirt and his polka-dot socks. “Think that’s what most of us want, in the end.”

Niall turns away from the screen, the crease between his eyebrows softening as Harry thumbs at his freckled cheekbones. “Yeah?”

Harry grins. “Yeah.”

-

Niall pulls away from Harry’s kiss at the first mention of Obama.

“Barack!” He grasps for his heart (wrinkles Harry’s shirt) and shuts his eyes with a swoon (melts Harry’s heart). “God, what a man.”

Harry snuffles indignantly. “How quickly you’ve forgotten about your poor, devoted lover. Does this man pose a threat? I won’t hesitate to run for office to win back your heart.”

“Shut up, Harry,” Niall snorts at him. “You could never beat Obama.”

The way he laces their fingers together and gives them a loving squeeze says otherwise.

-

“Harry.”

“Niall.”

“Harry, I’m going to explode.”

“There, there,” Harry pats soothingly at his back. “Let it all out, Doctor Harry is here for you.”

Niall swats at his thigh. “No self-referencing in the third person. We’ve been over this, Haz.”

“But Doctor Harry,” Harry pouts “Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? Or maybe Doctor Styles? No, yeah, definitely Doctor Styles.”

Niall squirms, hopes Harry doesn’t catch on. “H, what are you eve—” 

“Oh my god!” Alas, he has caught on. “You _like it_ —”

“Anyway!” Niall claps his hands together, trying to bring the focus back to the debacle debate. “Why won’t either of them answer the question?”

-

“Y’know, Niall,” Harry says after Niall ends his spiel about neither of the candidates giving proper answers with a simple but effective middle finger to the telly. “I wish you’d put this much passion into our love-making.”

Niall lets out the strangest noise. “Love-making? What are you, eighty?” He takes one glance at Harry’s growing scruff and grandpa sweater. “Well.”

“ _Yes_ , Niall. Love-making.”

“Whatever. And I am _such_ a passionate lover, don’t even start.”

“It’d be nice to get some reassurance once in a while,” Harry feigns nonchalance, but his dimples betray him.

“Oh yeah?” Niall takes the bait.

He promptly climbs onto Harry’s lap to give him his reassurance. Harry is pleased.

-

“Hm, what do you know,” Harry hums into Niall’s flushed neck, kisses sweetly at his fluttering pulse. “The debate’s over.”

“Mm?” Niall blinks sluggishly up at him until the words register. He turns to the TV where the news anchors are wrapping up their performance analysis. “Mm.”

“Well, look at this perfect little angel,” Harry coos, curling a finger around a tuft of Niall’s hair. “Wonder where that angry politics nut from earlier went off to.”

Niall just grumbles.

“I can’t believe snogging you really is the best way to calm you down.”

“Was a bit more than a snog, H,” Niall answers around a yawn, pulling Harry back down to hug him close to his chest.

“My sleepy baby,” Harry laughs into the bare skin of his shoulder. “High in passion and low in stamina.”

“Shut up, Harry.”


End file.
